


The Winter's Breath

by Kendrene



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alpha Abby Griffin, Alpha Clarke Griffin, Alpha Ontari, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Attempted Murder, Azgeda Clarke Griffin, Beta Echo, Branding, Canon Divergent, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, G!P Clarke, Girl Penis Clarke Griffin, Grounder Clarke Griffin, In a way, Knotting, Major Character Injury, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Omega Lexa, Rut Fever, Slavery, Slow Burn, Vaginal Fingering, and cunning Clarke is the best Clarke, because frankly we see that very little in fics, gods help me, manipulative Clarke, non g!p smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2018-11-03 19:45:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10974096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendrene/pseuds/Kendrene
Summary: The Coalition and Azgeda have come to a final battle - on the northern plains along the Trikru border, a place of slaughter for the clans led by the mighty Heda. The tide has turned in favor of the Ice Queen, thanks to Skaikru's support and guns - the Coalition is broken and Lexa is defeated and on her knees.But all is not lost - the alliance between Azgeda and Skaikru doesn't sit well with Clarke, and when Nia gifts her Lexa,  plans of rebellion form in the young Alpha's head. But revolt means acting cruel and cold in front of others, mistreating the one that could hold the keys to their salvation, and above all going against her own mother.Is Clarke willing to pay the price for treason?ORThe one where Skaikru falls in Azgeda lands and Clarke plots to dethrone Nia.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jude81](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jude81/gifts).



> This is posted as a way to ward off what tomorrow may bring (in my case eye surgery). Figured I could use being a bit superstitious for a change. 
> 
> I will add more tags as we go along (not for the relationships- that's it) but a general word of warning is that Clarke has to be a bitch to Lexa in a few instances. I know this may not sit well with some, so please consider this warning before reading. What I can assure you of, without spoiling plot, is that nothing is gratuitous. 
> 
> Enjoy
> 
> \- K

The battlefield smelled of cordite and gunpowder, blood and shit, and many other scents best left unnamed assaulted Clarke’s nose as she walked beside Kane and her mother. The wind cut at her exposed face, but not even the first eddies of winter managed to lessen the stench around them. Clarke thought she would reek of death for weeks. Crows glided over the battlefield in lazy circles, specks of stark black against the slate-grey sky, dropping down in a seething mass over the bodies, only to take to the air again whenever someone approached.

Mixed squads of Ice warriors and Skaikru guards moved among the carnage, occasionally stopping to end a life with sword or pistol shot. She forced herself to watch, blinking away the burning in her eyes and wondered, not for the first time, if things could have been different had they landed somewhere else. Not that they’d had much choice with the Ark falling apart around them. What had been the border between Canada and North America hadn’t been their target, but the only spot they could aim for with ventilation and propulsion compromised.

Something snagged her boot and she stumbled against her mother’s side. Without looking Abby grabbed her elbow, steadying her. Her mother’s eyes remained fixed somewhere far ahead as if, by stubbornly looking at the horizon, she keep the carnage her decisions had caused out of her mind.

When Clarke looked down, scanning the ground to find what she’d tripped on, she saw a bloodied hand grasp feebly at her ankle. An enemy warrior lay at her feet, half buried beneath a pile of corpses. 

Kane had followed her gaze and now turned to call over one of the nearby squads, but Clarke shook her head, stopping him.

“I’ll take care of it.” 

Kane’s eyes widened slightly, and her mother opened her mouth to argue, but after taking one look at her pup’s face she reconsidered, mouth shutting with a  _ click  _ of grinding teeth. 

Clarke ignored them both and knelt beside the dying man, her pants immediately soaked up with blood and mud. She unstoppered the water flask slung across her chest and carefully lifted his head, helping him to drink. She trod in dangerous waters - their alliance with Azgeda being a tenuous thing at best - and, if the wrong person was watching her now, her kindness toward a member of the Coalition could be seen as a slight to Nia herself. 

The man coughed once, then gulped down the offered water greedily.  His eyes, when they met hers, were full of pain and silent accusation, the shadow of his imminent death lurking underneath their dark surface. Clarke knew her gesture could not mend things, and a simmering resentment for her own people settled inside her chest. 

She wished to help his passing, and recognized it as a guilt fuelled attempt to ease her own conscience. Then again she had learned to live with the knowledge that her standing up to the Council and Nia would not have altered the end result, save perhaps for adding her own name to the death toll. 

“Why?” the warrior managed to croak, and when he spoke crimson droplets gathered at the corners of his mouth. 

Clarke’s lips twisted bitterly as she unsheathed the knife at her waist with her free hand. 

“I wish I knew.” 

The young Alpha heard her mother growl words of warning, but she was beyond caring, her attention entirely focused on the man. She held his gaze and brought her hand around so he wouldn’t see the knife as it stabbed swiftly into the soft flesh right under his jaw. 

He convulsed once then died with one last exhale, eyes frozen open. Death did not dim the recrimination etched on his features, and the small act of mercy didn’t bring Clarke any relief. 

Shouts rang out suddenly and she saw a group of Azgeda warriors pointing excitedly at something, no…  _ someone  _ on the ground. Two of them bent down and when they straightened they held a figure slumped between them, a woman judging by the size yet Clarke could not be sure at such a distance. They jeered as they dragged her towards the lines of sullen enemies that they were taking as prisoners.

“Someone important I’d wager,” Kane commented dryly, “perhaps one of Lexa’s Generals.”

“Perhaps Heda herself.” Abby added, failing to mask a surge of hope, “at least then the war would be over.” 

Clarke snorted, earning an exasperated sigh from her mother and a growl of warning from Kane. The two were newly mated and he never passed on a chance to show his protectiveness towards the medic, nevermind that he was just a Beta and Clarke an Alpha like her mother. That meant that Abby was more than capable of defending herself, but the fact seemed entirely lost to Kane.

The blonde resisted the urge to growl back and jerked her head towards the prisoners’ lines.

“Shouldn’t we hurry and see what the fuss is about? After all we want to appear sufficiently eager.” 

She started forward without waiting for a reply only to be halted by her mother’s hand on her arm. Abby’s fingers dug into Clarke’s flesh painfully and her sire’s scent, which had been covered by the stench of death thus far, cloyed the air around them. Clarke tried to jerk away, but Abby’s hold only tightened and a snarl rattled the bones inside her chest. 

Clarke didn’t bother to hold back this time and they locked stares, trying to make the other back down, Kane glancing between them with a worried frown. She had no doubt he would like to intervene, but he knew better than to get between two Alphas settling a disagreement. 

Clarke glared at her mother feeling her temper fray, dangerously close to snapping entirely. She had been in rut since the start of the hostilities and had refused to seek relief, or even take a mate, despite several Omegas and Betas being more than willing to slip into her bed. The Council had strongly suggested that she choose a mate from the Ice Nation to strengthen the alliance, but Clarke had thwarted those notions when she had sought out one of their healers to ask for an herb that could help ease the pain of the cock that had grown between her legs. 

It had saddened her that she didn’t trust her mother enough to let her help with Skaiku manufactured suppressants, and now she was reduced to drinking a wolfsbane tea each night, waiting for the rut to break eventually. Abby had fretted that Nia would take offence at Clarke’s hesitation in mating one of hers, but the Queen had laughed it off, telling her mother she should know how picky young Alphas could be. 

Yet Clarke could not refuse forever and disquiet had taken residence inside her gut since then. 

“Cut it out and behave,” Abby hissed, shaking her roughly, “do you want to get us all killed?”

“Nia would never kill you mother, “ Clarke retorted, anger rising in a wave of blistering bile up her throat, “she’d miss the way you grovel.” 

Abby’s eyes clouded, anger shattering pretended indifference, but there were too many people around for her to do anything about it that wouldn’t result in awkwardness and unwanted questions. 

Clarke’s sire flashed her teeth in warning one last time and trudged past the girl, but Kane lingered and Clarke was surprised to see a touch of sadness on his face.

“Don’t be so hard on your mother, Clarke.” When it seemed he was about to pat her shoulder, she gave him a pointed look  and he let his hand fall to his side, “she is doing the best she can.” 

Clarke wanted to ask for whom exactly she was doing that, but swallowed her words down and hurried after her mother followed by Kane. A crowd had gathered around the kneeling prisoners and she could see Nia waving Abby over. Failure to appear by her mother’s side could very well equate to disobedience in the Queen’s eyes. 

She used the time it took them to cover the ground separating them from the swelling group of onlookers to gather her thoughts and fix her face into an unflinching mask. She’d had plenty of time to practice a detached expression and she was grateful for the blue warpaint streaking her cheeks, which would hide whatever flashes of emotion made it past her self-control. 

That had been one of the grounder customs the Council had adopted besides more basic things like weapon training and survival skills. Clarke had been relieved when nobody insisted she also begin scarring her face like the Ice Warriors did, although some among the Guard had been all too eager to earn their kill marks. 

Armor had been harder to get used to and still chafed at her skin, although she was slowly growing as tough as the lands they now called home. 

_ Home _ .

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her mouth from twisting into an open sneer. Home was supposed to be a place of safety, not knives after dark.

Certainly it wasn’t meant to make one feel tainted. 

The wind moaned across the field and Clarke shivered, tugging the pelt that sat on her shoulders - a gift from Ontari - more firmly around herself. It was - by the old calendars her people still stubbornly used - early November, but the season looked further along. What grass hadn’t been trampled in the battle was discolored to a sad brown, and the few bushes dotting the field were dry and burned by the frost she woke up to each morning. 

Clarke reached the edge of the crowd and elbowed her way through the milling warriors, intent on reaching her mother. 

Whenever someone snarled she growled back, the smell of her rut hanging so heavily around her that even the toughest looking Alphas begrudgingly gave way.

The survivor that the Azgeda warriors had been so excited about, was indeed a woman, her face so caked in blood and grime that Clarke had trouble distinguishing her features.

The woman's eyes, of a green so deep it looked almost black in the day’s scarce light, were what immediately captured Clarke's attention. Fire still smoldered in their depths despite the warrior’s defeat, and the blonde couldn't help but shiver when their gazes met. The prisoner’s armor, soft leather reinforced with steel at shoulders and joints, was damaged in several places and some of the straps had been completely severed so that the chest piece hung askew off her frame. Clarke winced in sympathy, imagining the bite of steel against her own flesh.  

Despite the fact that two Ice Nation men were holding the kneeling woman by her forearms, there was a promise of violence in the way she held herself, refusing to hang limply from their grasp.  

She was at her enemies’ mercy, yet it looked like they were the ones kneeling. 

Angry mutters rose from the crowd and, while Clarke’s understanding of the Azgeda dialect was rudimentary at best, she heard a name repeated several times. Lexa.

The lithe woman badly fit the accounts Clarke had heard from Nia and some of the Azgeda people. They had talked of a ruthless leader thirsting for war, so intent on destroying them that Nia had been forced to take her lover hostage in the hopes of brokering peace talks. That had failed to stay Heda’s bloodied hand and only the death of the one she had claimed to love had halted open hostilities, even though peace had ended up looking like a simple truce.

But Skaikru’s arrival had shifted the balance and Nia had taken the chance to stand up to the so called Coalition in an attempt to end Lexa’s reign of tyranny. Clarke’s mother and the Council had listened to the tales and believed that choosing to side with an evil they thought they knew was the best course of action. 

The blonde was not so certain.

There was something in Lexa that made the Alpha inside Clarke growl, the hint of a scent tickling just under her nose, but the coppery tang of blood was so overpowering she could not separate the other trace. The fact she couldn’t put a name to it, had disquiet settle heavy in her gut, and Clarke hated that it added to the times of uncertainty she was already going through.  

“Lexa kom Trikru,” Nia’s voice cut through the din and the crowd hushed instantly, “your Coalition ends today.” 

The Commander took a shuddering breath before answering “This isn’t over Nia. The clans won’t fall in line.” Clarke was impressed. She had glimpsed some of the grievous wounds the warrior had suffered during the fight, gaping cuts that still bled slowly underneath her shredded armor, yet Lexa’s voice carried, clear and steady even though it should have been cracking under the pain she must be in.

The Queen smiled down at Lexa almost indulgently, but her light blue eyes remained as empty as the frozen wastes further North. 

“In time they will. Word of this massacre will spread and the other clans will become former allies soon enough.” Nia pointed to the circle of Skaikru Guards that hovered like overprotective shadows behind Clarke and Abby. The implicit threat of the Skaikru’s guns was obvious. 

Lexa tore her eyes away from Nia and looked back to the Queen’s allies. She had heard about these strangers fallen from the sky, but had not seen any of them up close until Nia had broken off from the Coalition and declared war. 

Merchants who had travelled the northern routes when they were still accessible had brought stories back to Polis. They had whispered of a metal structure that looked like it could cut through water, but unlike any boat they had ever seen, and strange people whose warriors had supposedly been seen carrying the weapons of the hated Maunon. 

That news in particular had planted seeds of unease firmly inside Lexa’s chest, but the peace had been broken before she could send envoys of her own. 

The people arrayed in front of her were certainly weird looking, the cut and hue of their clothing setting them apart from any other clan. Some wore armor of Azgeda design, like the blue eyed girl who stared at her with unwavering intensity and a hint of anger. 

All of them had guns.

“Chancellor Griffin,” Nia looked to a Skaikru woman at her side, “it is a pity you are mated, or I would offer you this one as a reward.” 

Someone in the back of the crowd made a lewd suggestion and the warriors laughed and hooted in scorn. Nia let the noise die down before continuing.

“Perhaps your daughter would be pleased at having the Omega,” the guards dragged Lexa forward, stopping inches away from the blue eyed girl. She gave a surprised jerk, as if someone had just emptied a bucket of icy water over her head. 

Nia spoke directly to the girl this time, “it may help you with your…  _ predicament.”  _ More laughs rippled through the onlookers and the girl’s cheeks reddened for a moment. 

Clarke felt heat boil over her collar to spill across her cheeks at the Queen’s words. Of course Nia knew about her rut - the Council hadn’t exactly been subtle when they had inquired after suitable Azgeda mates for her, but even if they hadn’t, she had sought out one of their healers, and Indigo undoubtedly reported back to the Queen. And her own body was betraying her now, the dampening effects of the tea all but evaporated in the blazing fires of battle. 

She wondered briefly how she could have missed the fact that Lexa was an Omega, although the stench of death was so pervasive all around them, it may have tricked her senses. The blonde felt the Alpha inside her stir viciously and the ache between her legs increased. Her inner beast had no consideration for politics, the simple prospect of having an Omega to fuck enough to throw it into a frenzy. Clarke grit her teeth, clamping down on it with the last of fraying temper. 

This may be a chance to find out whether Lexa truly was as monstrous as they painted her to be. And at the very least keeping the girl alive would allow her to sleep at night. 

Clarke pushed all such considerations to the back of her mind, conscious that Nia was waiting for her to speak. If she wanted any of the plans hazily forming in her head to be even remotely applicable, she had to play her hand carefully. 

Removing one of her gloves, Clarke closed the gap separating her from Lexa and grasped the Omega’s chin, forcing her to tilt her head backwards. 

Lexa scrunched her nose when the pungent aroma of an Alpha in rut hit her hard. It was a blend of sweat and that sort of burning smell metal gave off when left too long under the sun. She inhaled sharply despite herself and it stuck to the back of her throat, making it harder to breathe. 

Somehow the girl’s restraint surprised her. The few Alphas she knew were mostly brutes, lording it over Betas and Omegas especially, but this girl’s touch wasn’t harsh. It was measured, calculated to be just enough to make the Omega comply. Still the hand wasn’t gentle and the Alpha’s burning fingers pressed into Lexa’s cheeks, their heat almost scalding on her skin, firmly maintaining her face in place. She felt like a horse at market under the scrutiny and jerked herself out of the girl’s grasp with a lowly snarl, whipping her face around to sink her teeth on the back of the Alpha’s hand. 

There was a growl and the crack of an open-handed blow, then her world spun and she found herself face down in the mud, a mouthful of it coating her tongue.

She felt a boot dig into her side and she was unceremoniously rolled over to lay onto her back. The Alpha looked down at her, eyes burning in a face devoid of all emotion. She spoke, the huskiness of her voice failing to melt the layer of frost that covered every word. 

“I’ll take her.” Guards hauled Lexa upwards too fast and a strong nausea hit her, “perhaps she will be good for something.” The Skaikru girl snorted derisively, eyes roaming across the landscape of the dead, “but I doubt it, considering the mess she made of this.”

Lexa had been wrong. The Alpha wasn't different, she was as vicious as the others and dread settled over her at the idea of being hers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ontari offers advice and words of caution to Clarke about Nia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So firstly a thank you for the best wishes - the doctors did some more testing and it appears that for now the meds they gave me keep the glaucoma at bay so the surgery is indefinitely postponed. The eyedrops hurt like a bitch but I call this a good trade-off. 
> 
> Secondly thanks for the warm reception the fic got, I am trying to keep chapters shortish so I can update often and as a result the branding scene will be next chapter. It's kind of hard for me to write Clarke and Lexa at odds, although the dynamic is interesting, but after that things will slowly look up for them again. 
> 
> Thirdly because someone did try to start trouble - please read the tags! This may not be your cup of tea, but there are a million fics out there that are - don't bash people that enjoy reading this kind of work.
> 
> Fourthly? I forgot the Raven/Anya relationship tag. Whhoops - my bad.

Ontari watched the line of prisoners file through the palisade’s gates. They shuffled forward, bent by injury and exhaustion, holding their tattered cloaks around their frames as best as they could to shield themselves from the freezing rain. The skies had opened up as they marched away from the battlefield, the drizzle somehow rendering their victory more desolate. She was close enough to the abject procession that she could hear the chains linking the prisoner’s hands and feet jingle with every step. Each man was tied to the one before them and so on throughout the line, the lengths of metal binding them long enough that they could trudge along in a slow shuffle but not run. 

Mounted warriors moved along the line of men on foot, prodding them with the end of a spear whenever they felt the defeated Trikru weren’t moving fast enough. Ontari spotted a few warriors from other tribes too, mainly Broadleaf and Red Stairs clan, but battle had been joined before the majority of Lexa’s reinforcement could even make it to the field.

Nia’s temporary camp sprawled across the top of a steep hill and, as she cast her gaze back the way they had come, Ontari could still discern the scavenging teams move among the slaughter, reduced to the size of scuttling ants by the hill’s height. The Alpha was grateful that the distance was too great for her to see the bodies they were picking clean of anything that could be reused. 

She wouldn’t want to ruin her appetite. 

Despite Nia’s boastful speech, Ontari knew as well as anyone that the war wasn’t over with Lexa’s capture. Some clans, like Sankru, had only grudgingly accepted Trikru’s rule, but others would fight on and soon enough Nia would have to push south and make for Polis. 

Scouts’ reports were already coming in about it, the clans that had been too late to come to Heda’s help retreating South to reorganize. Several men had reported they were turning to Luna kom Floukru for guidance. 

Ontari worked some moisture into her mouth and spat on the ground in disdain. Turning to a craven of all people! Then again Luna was Natblida, the only one left of Lexa’s Conclave, so it made sense in a way. 

_ The Fleimkepa’s hand is behind all this, I wager. _

Her thoughts were interrupted by a mixed group of Skaikru and Azgeda men that almost staggered into her. Judging by the way they yelled and boasted of their deeds they were already well on the way to drunkeness. Perhaps some people did think they had won more than just one battle, she amended. Or maybe it was the narrow escape from death which had prompted them to muddle their minds with liquor and, for that Ontari couldn’t blame them. There had been far too many blades coming close enough to draw blood that she’d have nightmares for weeks, but that was not a thing any Azgeda warrior would admit out loud.

“Idiots.” She muttered dourly under her breath, stopping to let them pass. Sooner or later they’d sober up, and the bad dreams would come. Still she made sure to keep her opinion to herself, and her voice low.

Aggression was still heavy in the air, spiked by the violence and the blood they had spilled and Ontari had no wish to end up in a fistfight. The only tangling she intended to do was in her bed with Echo later that night, and her Alpha stirred with eagerness at the prospect,  but before that or even food she needed to talk to Clarke.

While she was walking to her tent in the hopes she would spot the Skai Alpha on the way, Echo appeared at her side as if conjured by her thoughts. They bumped shoulders in greeting and Ontari threw an arm around the Beta, nuzzling playfully into her neck. Echo pressed more firmly into Ontari’s side, turning her face to nip along the line of the Alpha’s jaw. She stank of the battlefield as they all did, but Ontari didn’t care, sneaking her plenty of looks while doing her best to maintain her stone-faced countenance. Echo could be a relentless tease, and she’d start to call her puppy-eyes or something of the like if she caught on.

The Alpha idly wondered (not for the first, nor the last time) why she hadn’t mated the other woman yet, but Echo hadn’t asked for it and seemed happy with their current arrangement. 

“Have you seen where Clarke went?” Ontari asked, not missing the annoyed look that crossed Echo’s face at the mention of the blonde. She really couldn’t understand Echo’s obvious jealousy - the Beta couldn’t seriously think she would bed another Alpha? 

Ontari chuckled at the idea and her lover’s face grew darker. 

“She’s in her tent I assume, like all those that will attend the branding ceremony,” the Beta chewed off every word, chagrin so sharp in her voice Ontari thought her ears would start to bleed. 

“You should change too,” Echo added, plucking at Ontari’s stained sleeve with distaste, “your Aunt will be displeased if you show up at the ceremony still covered in all this muck.” 

Ontari stopped and turned to face Echo, using the hold she had around the Beta’s shoulders to pull her close. 

“Why don’t you go and pick me some suitable clothes? I’ll let you dress me,” she purred in Echo’s ear before pressing their lips together in a kiss that left her lover keening softly. Ontari felt herself grow damp with arousal at the sound and when her Alpha stirred with eagerness she pushed the Beta away roughly, a hard laugh rolling off her tongue. “Perhaps we’ll have time for more than dressing if you’re wet enough by the time I get back.” She teased and snickered when Echo hurried off towards the Alpha’s quarters, almost at a run.

Ontari watched her go, a hint of regret shrouding her heart for an instant. She whipped around and stalked towards Clarke’s tent, walking so briskly that the few people she crossed paths with hurriedly leapt out of her way. They had been in this situation for years now and Ontari had begrudgingly adapted, but truth be told she would like nothing more than to mate Echo, the fact that the woman seemed content to let things lay mora an excuse she liked to hide behind than actual truth.

_ Can’t blame her if she prefers a living lover to a dead mate _ .

Ontari’s mood, which had been slightly improved by Echo’s company, soured again.

When approached about it, Nia had made it clear she would never allow her to choose her mate independently. Over time the Queen’s decree had chafed at her soul and Ontari’s resentment grew, but she knew that mating Echo would mean condemning them both to a life on the run, or worse, a knife slipping between shoulder blades on a moonless night.

She chased the thoughts away with a snarl, perfectly knowing it was useless. They would creep back on her as she crossed over the edge of sleep, as they did every single night, and neither anger nor Echo’s warm body entwined with hers would make a difference.

Ontari rounded a corner and heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of Clarke’s tent. The rain had grown in intensity, half frozen drops pelting her scalp like liquid stones and she felt soaked to the bone despite her cloak. Underneath it her clothes and armor were so drenched they stuck to her body as if glued in place, scratching at spots she hadn’t known existed until then. The day was dwindling rapidly, with no foreseeable improvement in the weather, and the rainwater had turned even the fur lining of her cloak to something making her colder rather than keeping her warm.

A few more paces were all it took for Ontari to find out that Echo had been right. The Azgeda warrior hadn't even reached the entrance of Clarke’s tent that the scent of her rut aggressively prickled at her nose. The downpour had muted every smell around but Clarke's scent turned acidic and heavy by need lingered stubbornly  - much to Ontari’s disgust and surely that of everyone in the vicinity.

She ducked inside, shaking her cloak out, to find the other Alpha engaged in a heated fight with her armor. A fight Clarke appeared to be losing. 

“Here,” Ontari rolled her eyes at her friend’s clumsiness, “let me help.” 

She immediately followed up on her offer, hands going to the armor straps on Clarke’s side. The Alpha let her hands fall away with a sigh and a grateful nod in Ontari’s direction. “You may have to cut them,” she cautioned, “I’ve been tugging at the fucking things for a good ten minutes.” 

Ontari chuckled, fingers expertly scraping crusted mud from the knots before undoing them, “you just have no patience.” 

She expected a snarky reply, but once free of the armor Clarke just sagged forward with a groan, hands resting on her knees. 

“Are you injured?” Ontari’s eyes roamed Clarke’s body, searching for wounds, and she could not keep a hint of worry from her voice. Nobody would have placed a wager on them becoming friends, yet here they were, and Ontari had grown fond of the other woman’s company - at least when she didn’t reek so badly.

Clarke shook her head. 

“Just tired,” she admitted. 

Ontari grunted, chucking the soiled armor piece into a corner. She watched Clarke walk to a small folding table and pour water into a washbasin, before tugging her shirt off and throwing it to the ground. 

Blackish bruises adorned the blonde’s back and hugged around her ribs on one side, and Ontari knew she would look much the same when she finally removed her own armor. She had taken quite a few blows during the battle and didn’t care to linger on how many there had been.

Clarke took advantage of the time she needed to wipe herself clean to study her companion. Ontari was one of the few Azgeda people she actually felt close to when it came to the warriors. Most of them seemed distant, as barren and cruel as their lands, and while she was certain that hardship had contributed in shaping them that way, they took too much pleasure in the suffering of others. 

When she looked at the other Alpha though, she saw a friend. They had known each other since Ontari had appeared at Arkadia’s gates at the head of a delegation that had looked as ready to fight a war as to broker peace. She had been the one to offer Skaikru much needed knowledge on how to survive the harsh winters. Clarke knew that sending her own niece to live with them had been Nia’s way to let the Council know she was always watching them, and the Skaikru leaders had been aware of it also. Yet they were not in a position to refuse, and the weather had proved to be even harsher than the few scans they had managed to run before guiding the Ark down had led them to believe. 

It was hard for her to admit it, but without Azgeda’s help they wouldn’t have survived.

Clarke dropped the wet cloth she had used to wipe her skin onto the table, noticing with a grimace of disgust that the water in the basin was now murky with blood and flecks of dirt. Her hands went to the strings holding her pants closed, and she gave a hiss when her knuckles brushed against her crotch. The bulge between her legs had grown stiffer, noticeably tenting her pants, and Clarke felt a wave of embarrassment tinted with shame wash over her at the idea that Ontari was seeing her in this state.

“Don’t worry Clarke,” there was a smirk on her friend’s lips, “it’s not like I’ve never seen a cock before. Although, you really should do something about it. Your rut has already lasted longer than it should, and besides you  _ reek _ .”

Clarke was keenly aware of the dangers of rut sickness, but couldn’t help an amused snort at the good natured jab,  “you worried I’ll stink up the whole camp?”

“What else? You didn’t think I cared about you, did you?” Ontari barked a laugh, but Clarke saw the flash of concern that softened the other Alpha’s gaze for a moment.

Ontari had a point, but the Skai Alpha knew there was a good chance she’d end up mating whoever she chose to relieve herself with. This was her first full fledged rut and she was having plenty of trouble with it. On the Ark heats and ruts were carefully controlled with chemicals to avoid spikes in population that would have affected resource management, but on the ground nature ruled. A lot of Skai people had chosen a mate since they had arrived on Earth and Clarke knew of several couples expecting pups. It was as if their bodies had awoken after a long slumber, and Clarke felt like hers was racing at double the normal speed to make up for the lost time.

“I wonder why Nia didn’t give her to you.” Clarke stated almost idly, while she struggled to slip out of pants so caked with dirt they had turned as stiff as old leather. 

Ontari pulled a stool towards herself, and plopped down on it with a huff. She crossed and uncrossed her legs a few times, squirming on the hard seat in search of a comfortable position before settling down, a hand lazily toying with the knife at her waist. Coming from anyone else those gestures would have screamed of nervousness, but Clarke suspected that the Alpha was just taking a few moments to choose her words. She doubted her question had taken the Azgeda warrior by surprise. 

Very little could.  

“You know Nia wants Roan to succeed her on the throne, be Heda after her.”Ontari said finally, and Clarke nodded, knowing that Nia wanted nothing more than to do away with the tradition of the Conclave.  

She wanted Azgeda to rule all. Indefinitely.

“But he isn’t  _ natblida _ , like I am. Giving Lexa to me would undermine him.” For all her claims that she wanted to overthrow what she saw as an outdated tradition, Nia was aware of the reverence natblidas fostered in people’s minds. If she changed things too quickly even some of her housecarls may rebel. 

The words of explanation had scattered as bitter ashes on her tongue, but Ontari didn’t want the Omega for herself. What hurt was the fact that her aunt did not trust her, no matter how hard the young Alpha had strived to prove herself. She knew her own mother’s betrayal had put a stigma on her, cast a shadow of doubt over all of her actions, and yet she had thought that Nia would come to see that she could be loyal if she tried to show it hard enough. 

But even when her aunt sent her on a mission, always some of the warriors chosen to accompany Ontari were the Queen’s most loyal. It had not been different when she was dispatched to Arkadia, although she had relished to be away from her aunt’s cumbersome presence. The brunette actually looked forward to return to the Skaikru base, despite the cold metal of its rooms and the strange tek that would surround her. 

“Doesn’t it give me power?” Clarke’s brows furrowed in confusion. 

Ontari shook her head. Lexa was a nightblood as well but an Omega, and the Alpha still remembered people’s surprised reaction when she had been the one to win the Conclave. Ontari had been little at the time and her mother was still alive. Memories of those years were hazy at best, but she recalled Nia’s fury when the Azgeda candidate had been slain by someone who should have been far weaker. Lexa hadn’t been the first Omega to carry the sacred blood, but she had been the first to become Heda.

“You are brighter than your mother and certainly smarter than the prattling fools that make up your Council,” Ontari smirked and Clarke grunted, waiting for her to continue, “you are allies, but not.., equal. Despite your mother trying to convince herself of the contrary.” 

Clarke grunted again, turning to the chest at the foot of her cot, rummaging inside for a clean set of clothes as she gathered her thoughts. 

Ontari’s words stung - hurt even - but the blonde knew them to be true. She had stopped understanding her mother when Abby had chosen Marcus as her mate. Oh, she knew how loneliness could hollow someone’s bones out until nothing remained but dark, empty spaces, because the same had happened to her. 

Eilin had been her friend, her best friend growing up besides Wells. Clarke remembered the late nights as kids, gossiping about this or that rumor - and there was always rumor on the Ark - or just sleeping together when their parents were on night shifts and they were too afraid of the monsters under their beds to be alone. 

And then, when they had presented, the fact that Eilin had been a Beta had only made them closer while people their age drifted apart based on rank - but then again Clarke had never been a typical Alpha. She remembered their first kiss, fumbled and sloppy, and the way her heart had raced seemingly ready to burst from her chest. 

After they had crash landed with an impact so hard she’d thought her bones would turn to fine dust from it, she had found Eilin, spine broken and head bent at an unnatural angle, eyes staring but seeing nothing. 

There hadn’t been time for grief then, not when survival was at the forefront of everyone’s mind, only a quick burial and bitter tears when night fell and nobody would notice. She had been numb, empty, then other deaths had followed until the pain of them all had become a dull, constant companion. 

Death took pieces of the future out of people’s lives, leaving holes in the shape of the departed, voids impossible to fill. Still, the instinct to do so was there, so Clarke understood her mother’s desire for a companion. 

But she didn’t understand and couldn’t forgive that Abby would choose one of the accomplices in her father’s murder. Because that was what it was for her, and to hell with the Ark’s laws.

As for the alliance with Azgeda… Clarke believed they could have resisted. They were outnumbered, but they had guns and explosives - they could have bloodied Nia’s nose enough for her to decide it was best to leave them be. 

Or perhaps without Nia’s help they would now lay dead and frozen further North. A grimace tugged at Clarke’s lips and a snarl echoed low in her throat.

“Giving Lexa to Skaikru humiliates her.” Ontari said quietly, misinterpreting the source of Clarke’s sour mood, “Nia is showing the clans that Heda is so worthless to Azgeda that we won’t even take her for a slave.” 

Clarke kept her eyes fixed downward, fingers tightening around a shirt she’d dug from her chest until her knuckles began to ache. She heard Ontari stand with a sigh, stool scraping noisily on the hard ground.

“You need to finish getting dressed. Aunt won’t tolerate you being late at the Branding.” 

Suddenly Ontari’s hand closed around Clarke’s forearm, fingers digging almost painfully into her flesh.

“I think Nia has other reasons for giving Lexa to you...until it’s clear what she intends, please be careful, Clarke,” she shook her head, almost sadly, “you are my friend, and I’d hate to lose you.”

“The Branding...Ontari I won’t do that to her, I  _ can’t _ .” There was bile burning at the back of Clarke’s throat and her voice quavered. She had seen Azgeda take slaves before - during raids against Trikru and other clans. She had heard the screams that came after. 

“What choice do you have?” Ontari spat back, emotion again hidden behind her usual sardonic smile, “what choice do any of us have?” 

Somehow Clarke thought she was referring to something other than the ritual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on Tumblr @kendrene !


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite plotting with Raven to prevent it, Clarke has no choice but to take part in the branding. Afterwards it's clear that earning Lexa's trust if not her forgiveness will be a long and bumpy road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is - this is as bad as it gets. You'll hate me a bit, you'll hate Clarke a bit. Believe it or not this was hard to write - both the branding and the aftermath in Clarke's tent.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr @kendrene

Lexa ached. 

The cuts along her ribs and arms were lines of fire dug into her skin, and while they had stopped bleeding, the crust of dried blood that covered the gashes pulled at her skin whenever she shifted. Not that the chains binding her allowed for much of that. When she’d been placed in irons, the warriors tightening them shut hadn’t cared one bit about her comfort, way more concerned about rendering her harmless.

The skies had quit their weeping some time ago, but the ground was still soaked through with rain, and the cold mud that seeped through her pants as she knelt. waiting for her captors’ pleasure, chilled her to the bone. 

Other prisoners - mostly Trikru warriors - knelt on either side of her, chained and collared like she was and, despite the pain burdening her, Lexa pulled her shoulders back and straightened her spine, hoping that they would draw courage from her strength. While she drew breath she was still their leader, their Heda, and she would make sure her people had her strength to draw from, even during a time so full of despair. 

They had been forced into two lines - facing each other - and at the head of each line a pole had been planted bearing a banner that hung limply, dripping with water. Despite the fading light, Lexa could still make out the colors - one was painted in the familiar black and white of Azgeda, the other was sky blue, darkened to a more somber hue by the rain. 

For Skaikru, she assumed.

Everything chafed - the iron links that bound her hands at the small of her back, digging cruelly into her flesh, the rough leather collar around her throat, which despite being loose was wet with rain and scratched at her collarbone, the tattered remnants of her armor that bit into the meat of her thighs and along her ribs because of the awkward position. 

Then there were the drums. Their low beat had started when she and the other survivors had been marched into the clearing - their sound slow, yet savage - and each beat echoed inside her skull, multiplying into a wall of noise that pressed just behind the bridge of her nose and set her teeth on edge. She could feel a headache forming, mingled with the dizziness that came from the blood loss. 

When the drums stopped it was a relief, even though Lexa knew the silence was a sign of what was to come soon after. 

How Azgeda treated their slaves was no secret, and it looked like the Sky People had picked up more than their fair share of customs from the northernmost clan. 

Across from her Indra glared, face twisted by a dark scowl. As silence descended, their gazes met and Lexa saw the question in her General’s eyes. The Commander knew that it would take only the slightest nod for her people to rise and resist in one last act of defiance. 

They would fight with bound hands and teeth and be killed to the last man more than likely. 

She cast a glance down the line of warriors, noting that all of her Generals had been put into the line of slaves assigned to Azgeda. All of them save Anya, and Lexa thought that was due to the fact her former mentor was a Beta. To someone that didn’t know Nia and the way the Queen thought, it could appear random, but she knew better - the Ice Queen was making sure that no Trikru Alpha would be accompanying her into captivity. 

Meeting Indra’s gaze again and shaking her head in minute denial was the hardest thing Lexa had ever done. Harder than the training she’d undergone. Harder than killing her own friends during the Conclave.

Or maybe watching the General’s expression change, her battle-hardened features fall into a picture of despair was worse. 

The Omega hoped that Indra would understand her choice - live and fight another day - although it did feel like their fighting days were over. 

But Lexa couldn’t - no, rather she wouldn’t - lead her people into one last useless charge, no matter how glorious an exit it would be. 

Nia thought that making Heda a slave would break the clans, but everyday she lived from that moment onward (and it went for all of them) she would inspire someone to fight in her name. The Queen could march on Polis and proclaim herself Heda, but people would see her for what she truly was - a fraud and an usurper. Lexa wasn’t sure what awaited her once she was taken back to the Skaikru territory, but while she lived people would whisper her name around the bonfires. Some of those who had been content to support her would end up choosing the illusion of peace that Nia’s rule would bring, and she couldn’t hold it against them, especially if they had  _ yongons _ to think about. 

But others would not stand to live under Azgeda’s harsh laws, and gather to conspire against her in the dark. Nia would find no comfort or security in sitting on Lexa’s throne. 

 

A crowd was slowly gathering around them, and Lexa snapped back to the present, the burnt smell of heated iron filling her nose.

Braziers had been lit at each end of the prisoners’ lines while she dwelled on Nia’s intentions, and now warriors from the victorious army were striding forward, plunging brands into the flames until the metal they were wrung from glowed a rich cherry-red. 

First came Azgeda’s turn, men and women who had won Nia’s favor during the battle claiming one of the prisoners as their own slave, by pressing the heated brands to cheek or forehead. Each brand was different, personally chosen by the warrior, but despite the way the iron sizzled against the prisoners’ flesh there were no screams. 

Pride swelled in Lexa’s chest as she saw the defiant looks her people directed towards the Azgeda warriors, and she forced herself to witness each branding, fighting with the sickness that made her stomach knot and tumble. 

When it was time for Skaikru to perform the ritual, she took note of the way some looked ill as they did so, disgusted at themselves and their leaders. Others were eager of course, and that didn’t surprise her - they had allied themselves with the Ice Queen after all. But internal dissent was a good thing, a chink that could be widened and exploited. If they could turn the Skayons against one another, they could escape.

Once free, she could find willing allies and rebuild the Coalition. 

It went on until she and Anya were the only ones left, and they both watched a brunette shoulder her way past the first row of onlookers. She was slight of build, fatigue and grime somewhat distorting her features, but the murderous look she cast towards Nia and the Skaikru leader dispelled the illusion of her weakness. Lexa noticed the way she favored one leg, grimacing with every step but voicing no complaint and, for the first time, she felt a weak spark of admiration for the enemy. 

“Please, forgive me,”

The Commander blinked in surprise, sure she had imagined the words, but when Anya’s shoulders jerked - just before the hot brand left the outline of a raven in stark relief against the General’s cheekbone - Lexa knew her ears hadn’t deceived her. 

A shadow blotted out the flickering light of the braziers and a moment later the blonde Alpha was standing next to her. She didn’t need to look to confirm that she was right, the reek of the girl’s rut almost making her choke on the calm breaths she forced herself to take. Fingers threaded through her matted hair, firmly enough to hold her still, and the Alpha’s stench grew inside her nose, becoming almost impossible to ignore. 

Suppressing a shudder, Lexa let her gaze wander until her eyes found the Queen’s pale blue ones. Nia wore satisfaction like a cloak, and she smiled in broad amusement when she saw Lexa looking at her. 

Lexa smiled back and saw the  _ Kwen _ ’s expression falter. Her own smile turned as brittle as thin ice and all air was pushed out of her lungs, her body burning as the brand was pressed against her skin. 

Sweat dripped into her open eyes, making them itch and her smile became a fixed rictus as she felt the brand sink into her flesh, not against her cheek as she had expected, but at the nape of her neck, on top of the tattoo that marked her as Heda. 

Nia’s eyes turned furious and Lexa fancied she could hear the Queen’s teeth grind above the sizzling of the iron. The woman looked positively ready to murder the Skai Alpha and she may have ordered her killed on the spot, if the girl hadn’t spoken up, breaking the shocked silence.

“Nou Heda noumou.” [No Commander no more] 

Lexa had thought she could withstand anything they decided to inflict on her, yet those words scorched right down to her soul, marking her more than any brand ever could.

There was anger coming off the young Alpha in scalding waves that buffeted Lexa’s body like high tide, but the brunette realized she wasn’t the target. 

No - the girl was staring right at Nia in open challenge, but whatever the Queen might have thought of doing was forgotten in the roar of the crowd, who picked up the Skayon’s words, screaming them into the heavens, fists and bare swords lifted in celebration. 

Clarke let the cooling brand thud to the ground in front of Lexa, mud bubbling around it briefly as white smoke wafted up from the iron. Sudden lightning painted a glaringly bright latticework overhead and the skies opened up again, pelting them with heavy, half-frozen rain. The Alpha was grateful - the stench of scorched flesh revolting inside her nose. It clung to her clothes and her hair, and she knew she’d smell it for days - long after she’d rid herself of it with scrub and soap. She was drenched in it, as well as in the blood of Lexa’s people and had to live with the knowledge she would never truly be cleansed from that stain. 

She had seen the Omega flinch at her words - everyone else too hung up on the humiliation she was inflicting to notice that where iron had failed to wound, a simple phrase had cut the former Heda to the bone - but she had seen no other way. 

Raven - who had visited her tent once Ontari had left - had agreed, after they had argued back and forth about it, trying to find a way to get out of performing the branding on the prisoners, or better yet stop the ceremony altogether. 

Clarke had hoped that Raven’s bright mind would see a way where she could not, but in the end the mechanic had hung her head dejectedly, shoulder slumping in defeat. 

“If you don’t do it, Nia will kill you and she’ll probably kill Lexa too,” her friend had reasoned, “if she gives the former Heda to one of hers, they may get ideas and you know how paranoid she is. And what if she gives Lexa to some other Alpha?” The Omega had grimaced. “Someone like Finn for example? You’re the only one that won’t just...just... _ take whatever _ Clarke. You’ll try and protect her, like you did for me when we landed and everyone went a bit crazy with the pheromones.”

Clarke shut her eyes, tilting her head skyward as the rain and the cheers of the onlookers washed over her. She remembered - after shock and grief had worn off - she remembered how it had been until they could start to manufacture suppressants again. Alphas fighting over Omegas going into unplanned heats, friends who had grown up together suddenly at each other’s throats. There had been murders - and worse. 

“How could she ever come to trust me?” She had lamented to Raven, “if I cause her so much pain to start with?” 

“You’ll find a way.” Her friend had looked at her with a confidence that Clarke wished she could share, and so they had moved on to discuss  _ how _ she should approach the ceremony since she could not get out of it, The phrase and place of the branding had been Raven’s idea - it was risky to take Nia’s moment of glory away from her, but they both knew the Queen’s viciousness had sowed discontent among her own people and Raven had pointed out that some may decide to follow in open rebellion if Nia was made to look sufficiently weak. 

But the words had stung like poison on her tongue, and she felt soul-sick as she wrapped her arms around the Omega’s waist and hoisted her first to her feet and then unceremoniously over one shoulder, huffing with the effort. What was left of Lexa’s armor was soaked through with rain and made her far heavier than she had any right to be. 

That had been her contribution to the plan, and Raven had rolled her eyes with a sigh at Clarke’s Alpha showing through, before begrudgingly admitting it would make one hell of an exit. Clarke just hoped she could wing it until she was out of sight, her legs already burning with Lexa’s added weight. 

She was aware of Nia’s heated gaze trying to burn a hole through her, but the stare haunting her was one of purest green - one brimming with resentment. holding a hatred made all the more terrible by the cold fury driving it home. 

Where Nia’s pale eyes were ready to incinerate her on the spot, Lexa’s had frozen Clarke in place, and she had faltered, forgetting everything she’d meant to do as the Omega’s gaze cut her more effectively than the sharpest blade.  

The worst of it all was knowing she deserved the sentiment.

Her boots skidded on the muddy ground as she came to an abrupt halt, her mother stepping in her way, face thunderous. She thought she heard a grunt of protest coming from the Omega, but wasn’t sure - thunder cracking so loudly through the air it canceled every other sound. 

Lexa felt the Alpha’s hold tighten, right before the girl came to a faltering stop causing her to bump her head against the blonde’s lower back. 

She thought she saw the Skaikru leader approach - but how could she be sure when her world was a broken upside-down mosaic? - and nausea swept over her as lightning chased thunder overhead, burning a searing after image into her eyelids. 

Lexa almost hoped she would be sick all over the girl’s back - would serve the Alpha right if she did.  

“Where are you going Clarke?” A woman’s voice demanded angrily, aggression lacing it so thickly that Lexa could swallow it with each breath she took. 

The Alpha widened her stance and Lexa bit down on a groan as the scrapes along her ribs began to throb.

“Why mother,” the Skayon’s - this...Clarke’s voice was dripping venom, “weren’t you insisting I put my knot into someone just hours ago?” 

“The feast...you must…” 

“Let her go Chancellor,” Nia’s voice cut through the din and the Queen stopped next to them, hand reaching out to grab a fistful of Lexa’s hair, lifting her head at a weird angle so that the Queen could look down into the Omega’s eyes. “I ache to see how Clarke will teach this one her proper place,” she sneered and bent forward, her next words a quiet hiss meant for Lexa only. “You should never have Ascended, Omega, but don’t worry, soon the clans will have a proper Heda again.” 

Just like that she was gone, the Skai Chancellor grovelling in tow and Clarke was moving again carrying Lexa away from the crowd and the fire, away from the feast. 

And, for the first time that night, Lexa felt a touch of fear whisper down her spine.

***********************************

The collar thudded to the ground and the Alpha moved away, turning her back to Lexa and busying herself with starting a fire. 

The Omega lifted a hand to her bruised throat, fingers shaking slightly as she gingerly touched the chafed flesh under her jaw, narrowed eyes never leaving the blonde. 

When the Alpha had brought her inside what was obviously her tent, laughing at the coarse jokes the Azgeda guards posted outside had sneered their way, Lexa had feared the worst. 

She had been hurriedly dumped onto a narrow cot and had tensed, expecting the Alpha to press her down onto the pile of furs - and she had bared her teeth, ready to make her bleed for it. 

Instead the Alpha had made quick work of the ropes binding her wrists, then Clarke’s fingers - calloused by sword training yet still oddly soft, as if the girl wasn’t really used to hard work yet - had brushed against her jaw, going to the clasp that held the loose collar shut around her throat. 

“What I did,” Clarke’s voice was a coarse, tired husk, barely audible over the pattering of rain on the tent’s canvas, “I wish there had been another way,” 

The Alpha hadn’t turned, and Lexa silently willed her to, so that she could stare into her eyes and call out the lie. For certainly she was saying words she didn’t really mean - how could she, possibly?

“Then why did you?” 

Her words should have been like molten fire, liquid accusation. Instead Lexa just sounded tired - and she hated the way her body was failing her. 

For a while the sound of the pouring rain was the only thing echoing between them, and Lexa shook her head with a grimace - she felt almost disappointed, having expected the Skai Alpha to put up more of a show. But the truth was that there was no excuse, no justification for what Clarke had done to her out there in the mud, and the throbbing of the brand at the base of her neck would ensure she’d never forget it. 

“In my place, what would you have done?” 

Clarke turned catching the tail end of a grimace on Lexa’s lips. It was bitter like frost and made her chest ache. She did not delude herself into thinking that getting Lexa on her side would be easy, but she could wish they had crossed paths a different way. 

But fate had set them on an impact course and the collision was proving more violent than a thousand crash landings.

She observed a stormfront pass over Lexa’s face, the Omega’s chiseled features - which had been utterly collected even under duress - quivering with the beginning of a scowl. The blonde’s eyes travelled the length of the brunette’s angular jaw and she could almost glimpse the sinews flex in the half light of the brazier, the tiny muscles jump and shake with the touch of a snarl as the Omega pondered her words. 

“You’re no better than us, no different. And you know it,” she said at last, pressing on to break the impasse, and watching as anger broke cover all over Lexa’s face, copious like the deluge falling outside the tent.

Lexa inwardly reeled, fingers finding a white-knuckled purchase in the furs beneath her as she struggled not to jerk back. She had strived to be impartial, but could she honestly say that her former clan had never influenced her choices? 

She had built the Coalition on trade and negotiation, but where that had failed she had imposed it with blood. In time, clans other than Trikru had joined her and become her people as well, and those that had opposed her she had broken over her knee giving no quarter until they begged for mercy. But the few who had refused to bend the knee and acknowledge her as Heda… names had been struck out on the maps maintained by the Fleimkepas back in Polis.

But Lexa refused to admit Clarke was right - hers may have been a bloody peace in the making, but in the end it was still peace. Nia brought nothing but war. 

“I would never have chosen Nia.” She sneered, words sharp with contempt.

“Nia was all we  _ had _ . Would it be better if we had died? Somedays I think so.” There was a flash of teeth. “On other days I think we survived out of spite and stubborness. Just like you are doing now.”

The Skai Alpha’s face was shadowed, but her blue eyes pierced the gloom and regarded Lexa in a way she couldn’t read. Tired - perhaps resigned - and Lexa had to fight to hold on to her rage. She focused on the tendrils of hot pain that snaked down her spine from the fresh brand, and tongued the split lip Clarke had given her on the battlefield to fuel her resentment, until it was a live thing that writhed deep inside her gut.  

Whatever commonalities their choices may contain, she had never acted out of sheer cruelty. 

“Aren’t you going to hit me some more?” She jeered, pushing any lingering disquiet deep into the blackest recesses of her mind. 

The Alpha wheezed with mirthless laughter - she dared to! - eyes suddenly alive with a fire that matched Lexa’s own.

“Why would I bother,  _ Heda _ ? Nobody is watching.” 

The words tumbled from Clarke’s lips unbidden, her pent up anger releasing like a flooding river as the beast inside her howled in challenge. She fought for control within herself, pushing it back - kicking and screaming at her feet where it belonged - then behind the locked doors of her mind. 

She expected Lexa to lash out with more stinging words, but the Omega flew wordlessly across the tent and flung herself at Clarke before she could register was was actually happening or react. 

They crashed into a folding table, objects spilling on the floor along with them, and Clarke felt Lexa’s hand fumble at her waist right before her own dagger bit into her side. She snarled in pain, but her growl turned into a choked gasp as Lexa pressed her other forearm against her throat, slowly crushing her windpipe. 

The Alpha bucked her hips, trying to dislodge the brunette, and just as black spots began to float across her vision she managed to lower her head, sinking her teeth into Lexa’s arm in a last ditch effort born from desperation. 

There was a hiss of pain, immediately swallowed, then Clarke finally managed to throw Lexa off - scrambling madly to pin her down before the Omega could try something else. 

Clarke knew that had Lexa been uninjured she would be dead, and she berated herself for perhaps having removed the bindings too soon.  

She tore the dagger out of her side with one hand, flinging it into the far corner. Blood leaked freely from the gash, so hot it steamed as it came in contact with the colder air of the tent. Clarke could not tell how bad it was without a thorough examination, but she’d have to subdue Lexa somehow before she could check. 

A shadow appeared at the tent’s entrance and they both froze, heads turning towards the Azgeda warrior ducking inside.

“What do you want?” Clarke demanded, trying to put all the natural arrogance of an Alpha behind her words. Luckily for her, the warrior was impressionable enough for it to work and,  as he caught a whiff of her scent, he took a step back. She deliberately tensed, the tendons in her neck writhing under her skin like snakes, and her smell grew so full of aggression Clarke wrinkled her nose. She’d give anything for a hot bath and a bar of decent soap. 

Or ten.

“I...heard a noise...I though…”

Clarke angled her body so that the man wouldn’t see the blood staining her side - the tent’s interior was dark, but it was best to not take chances. 

“Apparently she likes it rough,” the blonde let go of one of Lexa’s wrists, hand falling suggestively to the bulge straining her own pants as she gave the man her best impression of a leer. She hoped the brunette would catch onto her bluff and stay still until he was gone.

Holding her breath, Clarke watched his face carefully - refraining from a relieved exhale when he grinned back - hard eyes raking both of them lasciviously. 

The warrior turned to the night behind him, saying something in the northern dialect, too fast for Clarke to understand. Nothing she would care for, in all likelihood.

He got harsh laughter in reply but was satisfied enough to retreat, letting the tent’s flap fall close to grant them a semblance of privacy. Lexa was positive the lot of them would keep their ears peeled, now that they thought they knew what was about to happen. 

Clarke sagged against her, a labored breath whistling through her teeth before she rolled off of Lexa. As Clarke heaved herself up, she felt the blonde’s bulge ghost against the flare of her hip, hot and throbbing with the woman’s need to fuck. Lexa was about to turn her face away, intent on hiding her heated cheeks from the girl’s gaze, but the Alpha was apparently dealing with a similar problem. She chewed on her lower lip, face tilted away from Lexa’s, a faint blush rising like the tide up her neck. 

“And that’s why if you really want to kill me, you’ll do it quietly.” The blonde finally snarked, tottering to her feet. She was pressing a hand to her side, her fingers smeared red as blood oozed and dripped between them. 

“Who knows, you may even make it out of camp alive.”

The chances of that were very slim, and Lexa pressed her face to the ground, unwilling to let the Skayon see that she knew as much. 

The Alpha stepped over Lexa’s prone form, stumbling towards the tent’s entrance, “I am gonna go get water so you can wash. Then I’ll see to your wounds,” Lexa watched her hesitate, before the Alpha threw one last jibe her way.

“Do try to not get yourself killed while I am gone. I’d hate to have to clean after you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of insight on Ontari and Echo - yes, there's smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone reading the fic. 
> 
> Enjoy the new chapter.
> 
> \- Dren

Ontari wrapped the cloak tightly around her shoulders, lifting one corner to cover her head. 

Not that it made much difference, the already soaked fabric offering scant protection from the rain, but she didn’t care. She smirked at the thought that the Spirits themselves seemed to have decided they’d piss on her Aunt’s triumph just after Clarke had begun to ruin it. 

The other Alpha made her want to grit her teeth. Clarke had disregarded her advice, but Ontari was even more chagrined at herself, for the burst of admiration she could feel growing within her. She wanted to shake her fist at Clarke (and possibly sock her as hard as she could) but the memory of her Aunt’s fury-warped face would keep her warm for many nights to come.

Failing to suppress a shiver, Echo shifted closer to her, and the Alpha reached down, fumbling in the gloom of the storm until she found her lover’s hand. Echo’s skin was icy cold and  slippery with rain, but Ontari anchored herself in the feeling of Echo’s calloused fingers entwining with her own. Some would say that such thoughts did not belong inside an Alpha’s head, and - if they knew - they’d call her weak for the comfort she found in Echo’s arms. A few had dared, when they had been sloshing with too much mead to know better, and the careless words had gotten them scars or missing teeth. 

Ontari felt no shame in acknowledging how much she cared for Echo - loved her even - and though those words had never made it past her lips, she tried her best to show it every chance she got. The battle, like the ones which had come before, served as a harsh reminder of how fleeting what the two of them shared actually was.

“She has guts,” Ontari commented begrudgingly, just to break a silence that had become intolerable. She leant into Echo and pressed her lips to the Beta’s ear to be heard over the rolling thunder. 

Her lover tore her fingers free with a low hiss and, after shooting Ontari a heated look, she whirled around, elbowing her way through the milling crowd. 

Ontari’s feet were frozen in place, as if the lighting falling among the trees around their camp had transfixed her instead. Overcoming her confusion, she hurried after her lover - not caring that people would see her leave the feast in such a hurry. 

There wouldn’t be much celebration anyway - the storm far too vicious to remain outside. A steady stream of warriors was leaving the clearing, some dragging their new slaves along, and Ontari caught sight of her Aunt, deep in conversation with the Skai Chancellor and the woman’s mate. 

If the Queen herself was leaving for a drier place, there was no reason for any of them to stay. 

She caught up to Echo just as the Beta was ducking inside their tent, and followed suit, reaching out to grab her upper arm, but careful to keep the hold gentle. 

“Are you really that jealous of her?” Ontari asked, still wrong-footed by Echo’s behaviour. She could accept that Echo didn’t like Clarke - just because the other Alpha had become a friend she didn’t pretend that the Beta would see the same things she did - but Echo’s reaction to her offhand comment had left Ontari full of questions. 

She had felt tension grow between them because of this for days, well before battle was joined, and she figured that now was as good a time as any to clear the air. Soon enough they’d return to their station at Arkadia and when winter hit, the Alpha didn’t relish being trapped under feet of snow with Echo giving her the cold shoulder.

The Beta was famous for holding her grudges close to her chest. 

The other warrior faced her, a scowl darkening her features.  Her hand shot out, thudding palm-first against Ontari’s chest and she was shoved back. The Alpha staggered and almost tripped on her own feet, muscles seizing in protest at the jostling. 

“You stupid, arrogant idiot!” Echo snarled, face so blanched by anger that the tribal lines cut along her cheeks seemed inked in black by comparison, “it’s just such an Alpha thing of you to think...that everyone would thirst after...after…you...your...” Echo was a miniature storm in her own right, so chock-full of anger she couldn’t even get the words past the grinding of her teeth. 

Echo advanced on her, hands fisting at the collar of her coat to shake her, and Ontari let her vent, despite the Alpha within tugging at its leash. The primal side of her urged her to push back and bend the willful warrior into submission, but she kicked it away, as far down her soul as she was able. 

Up close it was clear that the pallor of Echo’s cheeks - which Ontari had mistaken for anger - was fear. The Beta’s pale brown eyes were wide and fixed, pupils blown as if she was expecting an attack, or readying herself to flee. And when Ontari covered Echo’s hands with her own, the Beta’s fists slackened, fingers shaking as the Alpha rubbed gentle circles over her knuckles. 

“What are you afraid of?” Ontari asked as gently as she could. It had taken her some time to learn how to smooth her most cutting corners, not enough to appear weak (Echo would not want her if she was) but enough for the Beta to feel safe with her. To look at her as someone she could go to when she needed a shoulder to lean on. They were both too stubborn to admit they needed help, and too proud by half on top of that, but in time they had reached a balance. No words were needed to let the other know they could be a rock, or refuge whenever needed - at least no words had been necessary until now.

For Ontari the hardest part had been learning  _ how  _ to be kind, as no one had been there to teach her - not her mother and especially not Nia.

“Us.” Echo mumbled, tension slowly draining out of her until she allowed Ontari to pull her against her chest. Resting her head on the Alpha’s shoulder, Echo continued “I am afraid for us. Nia knows you and Clarke are close and I am afraid that if the Skayon falls from her graces, so will you.”

The Beta’s hands tightened onto her coat again, clinging this time, and Ontari wrapped her arms around her lover’s waist.  The tight embrace was as awkward as it was tender, Echo being several inches taller than her. 

Still, she managed to nuzzle into the damp mass of Echo’s hair, a soothing rumble falling from her lips. 

“I’ll talk to Clarke come morning,” Ontari reassured her lover. She would, and smack some sense into her friend’s thick skull if she had to. 

They stood, holding each other, the death-grip Echo had on the front of Ontari’s coat easing as the minutes went by. It was the chill of their wet clothes becoming uncomfortable that prompted them to break apart.

“You’re soaked,” Ontari murmured as she reluctantly let her arms fall away, “get out of those rags before you catch something. I’ll start a fire.” 

Echo snorted, nosing along the Alpha’s jaw. “You just want me naked in your bed, Alpha.” 

The last of the tension evaporated, the Beta’s quip met with a chuckle. Ontari filled the tent’s brazier with wood that had miraculously stayed dry, tending to the flames until a small fire was eating at the twigs with a merry sort of hunger. Despite being nowhere near big enough for actual warmth, the fire somewhat mitigated the night’s damp chill. 

She considered Echo’s words and Clarke’s actions as she worked, eyebrows drawn downward into a frown. On the one hand she saw her lover’s point and was mad at the Skai girl for risking more than just her own neck by antagonizing Nia that way. And yet…

She had been standing next to Nia when Clarke had branded Lexa her own way, mocking Azgeda’s custom. Nia had tensed, fists clenched so hard at her sides her knuckles cracked, and a few of the men had muttered, weapons scraping against scabbards as they were half-drawn - more as a shocked reaction then a conscious threat. The majority had been too numbed by what they’d just witnessed to act and when Clarke had spoken what Ontari was sure were words carefully prepared beforehand…. Nia had actually sputtered before catching herself, but it had been too late to do anything other than watch Clarke rip triumph from her grasp, and the Alpha had felt a flicker of something - hope perhaps - flutter inside her chest. 

Maybe Clarke would get herself killed, but Ontari was certain she was up to something. Although whatever it was, the Alpha wasn’t sure she wanted in - not yet. 

“Are you coming?” She glanced towards the bed and found Echo so buried under the furs that only the tip of her nose and eyes were visible. With a shudder that started at her toes to reach every inch of her a moment later, Ontari’s body reminded her how tired she was. It wasn’t the bone-crushing exhaustion that the battle had left behind, although fatigue had turned the muscles of her arms to jelly, but the sort of prostration that ran at soul level. Ontari was tired of the constant fighting, nauseated by it, and it took several calming breaths before she could suppress the bitterness.

“Impatient aren’t we?” Ontari remarked with a forced grin, pushing thoughts of Clarke and politics, and war away to be analyzed under the clarity of morning light. 

She strode towards her lover, peeling off layers of sodden clothing as she went, until she was standing naked next to the bed, skin pebbled with goosebumps as a draft of cold air sliced inside the tent. 

Echo’s eyes roamed her flesh without restraint, and Ontari preened under the scrutiny unable to help that the hunger of the Beta’s gaze had her standing a little straighter. Under Echo’s smoldering attention the pain of the bruises adorning her torso faded, forgotten for the time being, even though it would come back to bite her ten times harder in the morning. 

“Oh do get in bed already,” Echo sassed, pushing the pelts down so that the Alpha could join her, “you already know I find you beautiful.” 

“Can you blame me for liking the way you look at me?” Ontari husked, sliding into bed with a grateful sigh. The cot wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world but, considering how close she’d come to lay into a bed of mud that day, Ontari counted herself lucky.

“I find fault in the fact you still haven’t kissed me.” Echo teased, poking one of the bruises the battle had left across Ontari’s ribs. Hard enough for her to grunt and rub at the spot surreptitiously.

The Alpha pulled her lover flush against her own flesh, their bodies sliding together with a confidence born from familiarity. But Echo wasn’t willing to let her have the upper hand, and even as Ontari was pressing her down onto the bed, the Beta parted her legs with a knee, pushing a toned thigh against Ontari’s mound. 

There was a deep ache within Ontari’s bones, as heat licked up from her sex, slick coating her folds and painting bold strokes onto Echo’s skin. It was the same kind of pang she felt when in rut, when her body changed and felt permanently on fire, but dulled and distant as if it wasn’t her own. 

Ontari was about to pull back, confusion and disquiet bubbling up her gut but, before she could, Echo dug her nails into the Alpha’s back - rearing up to catch her gasping mouth into a searing kiss. 

Coherent thought deserted her and Ontari melted into her lover’s mouth, her tongue sweeping along Echo’s lower lip before the Beta sucked on it greedily, a low moan climbing from her throat and passing into Ontari’s mouth. 

The sound vibrated deep within the Alpha’s chest and she mirrored it with one of her own, breaking free for a quick gulp of air before tangling into another kiss. Echo kissed her roughly, teeth biting into her lip hard enough she tasted blood, but Ontari didn’t mind. Relief was clear in the welts her lover was leaving across her shoulder blades, and the Alpha let herself be reclaimed, finding comfort in the thunderous sound of their combined heartbeats. 

She couldn’t help but cry out and buck her hips when Echo shifted her thigh, deliberately rubbing it against her sex, and the lingering chill of the night was forgotten in the fires of their lovemaking - neither of them caring when the furs slid to the floor. 

Ontari moved her mouth along the Beta’s jaw, sucking and nipping at the soft skin, finding one of Echo’s earlobes and tugging harshly with her teeth before soothing the reddened flesh with a swipe of her tongue. 

Echo’s nails drew relentless furrows on her back and Ontari huffed amused at her lover’s unspoken plea. 

The Alpha moved downward again, sucking and licking Echo’s throat until she found the spot between jawline and ear where the Beta’s scent was the strongest. 

She let her eyes fall shut, inhaling slowly - long, deliberate whiffs of her lover’s musk. A Beta’s scent was not as strong as an Alpha’s or Omega’s, but this close she could fill her lungs with it. Like always it reminded her of the frozen plains up north, a place that had always felt more like a home to Ontari than her Aunt’s palace, despite being as unforgiving.

Ontari wanted to fill herself to bursting and then some - Echo’’s smell a blend of woodsmoke and fresh snow - but the Beta let out a low, impatient whine that broke her resolution and she was drawn downwards with irresistible force, mouth falling open against the Beta’s breasts. 

At the first touch of Ontari’s hot mouth against her breasts Echo arched her back, hands falling to her lover’s hips as she encouraged her to grind against her thigh, Ontari’s slick hot and deliciously sticky against her skin. 

She wanted to look down and watch her lover take her nipples into her mouth, kiss and suck and bite, leaving a trail of lilac marks to grace her chest, but at the first graze of Ontari’s teeth against one of the hard buds she felt her spine collapse like a crumbling fortress, every subsequent swipe of Ontari’s tongue deconstructing her. 

Echo closed her eyes, surrendering as she let her head fall back onto the furs with a small whimper, body quivering with the pleasure and pain Ontari’s touch inflicted onto her. Blotted out by her fluttering eyelids, the world and its burdens disappeared from her mind as well, and Echo could pretend they were somewhere different. She allowed herself to be transported into another life, a simpler one - free of politics and bloodshed - that she knew she could never have. Tears swelled behind her eyelids, and she buried her face in the furs, silently begging for Ontari to take her. 

To use her, so she could forget everything but the mouth and fingers adoring her.

Her lower belly began to tighten and when she felt Ontari’s hand drop between her legs she almost cried with the relief. 

The Alpha’s touch - rough and demanding most of the time - was oddly gentle, as if Ontari was trying to show her a more tender side. It wasn’t something the Beta got to witness often, and while she usually left as many marks on the Alpha’s body as she got, the change of pace was soothing.

She parted her legs willingly, not bothering to smother a small smirk when Ontari shifted with her so that she could keep grinding into Echo’s thigh. 

Then Echo’s mouth fell open in a muted gasp, Ontari’s thumb pressing against the straining bundle of her clit, fingers slowly caressing along her folds, parting her and circling her dripping entrance. 

Echo angled her hips up, another moan escaping her in anticipation, but the sound died into a grunt of disappointment, when Ontari simply teased, feather-like, before focusing all of her attention on her clit.

“Not yet,” Ontari lifted her face from Echo’s breast, scattering small kisses along the Beta’s collarbone. She watched her lover’s enraptured face, head thrown back as pleasure and need chased along her features, and when she was sure the Beta was too caught up in the waves of heat rising from her sex she added in a hoarse whisper, “not yet,  _ niron _ .”

The word almost caught at the back of her throat and Ontari was glad that she could bury her face against Echo’s chest, pressing her ear to the crazed beat of her lover’s heart, finger coaxing more slick to flood between her spread legs. 

Everything seemed to recede except for them and the liquid pouring of the rain sliding down the tent’s canvas and Ontari moved like in a dream, Echo’s clit fluttering against her fingertips, incoherent pleas spilling from her lover’s lips. 

Finally the Alpha relented, fingers sliding lower to plunge inside the welcoming heat while she kept circling Echo’s throbbing clit with her thumb, rhythm increasing as she guided her lover to release. 

She knew that Echo was close when the woman’s hand fell onto the back of her head, snagging roughly into Ontari’s braided tresses, and she pushed her fingers deeper in response. 

Echo’s walls clenched around her once, twice and then the Beta came undone around them with a gush that drenched her hand and the furs beneath their bodies. 

Ontari came a moment later with one last snap of her own hips, bathing her lover in her release. 

She eased off Echo slowly, turning the trembling body of the Beta onto her side so that she could spoon her and wrap a pelt around them both.

As usual, a veil of sadness shrouded her heart and, as she tightened her hold around the Beta’s waist,  she was filled by the regret that she could call the other woman lover but not mate. 

Echo sighed contentedly, snuggling back into her chest, a hand running along Ontari’s forearm and grasping for her hand as the Beta drifted towards sleep. 

“Ai hod yu in.” A jumbled whisper, but enough to stop Ontari’s heart. 

Echo stilled against her, the lassitude of sleep pervading her limbs as she drifted off. 

Ontari held her long into the night, her own rest an unreachable mirage and - when she was sure the woman’s sleep was at its deepest - she allowed herself to cry, finally breaking open.

“I love you too.” 

The words were barely discernible among the muted sobs.


	5. Author's Note

People have asked me if I have any new year's propositions, and my answer was that I wanted to finish some of my pending fics.

 

The Winter's Breath is perhaps the one work I have on here with the most baggage. I am proud of the unique slant I approached it from as I was always attracted by "what if" scenarios, but I was definitely unequipped to deal with some of the backlash I received last year. 

 

The Winter's Breath is the one fic which caused me to receive actual death threats in my tumblr inbox, plus people wishing for me to be raped and since at the time I needed some stuff done to my eyes, someone hoping I'd go blind. 

 

To tell you the truth it broke me for a while. It made me want to stay clear of this specific fic because whenever I opened up the word doc I got nauseous and panicked. 

 

They say that the end of a year is a time for reflection - that as you look back to what you did or didn't achieve you can see paths and progress with a clearer overall vision. Well, it dawned on me that what happened with this fic was nothing but a case of bullying. 

 

I've been bullied for being disabled, for being gay and last year I was bullied for what I write. I always stood up to my bullies and I decided that this time won't be any different. People are free to dislike my work in general, or this fic in particular, but I tag my works accordingly to what they contain and I believe that if I am responsible for the tags so that readers aren't caught unawares, people that consume media are responsible for deciding if they want to go forth with something they know will upset them. 

 

I don't expect to never being criticized - criticism makes people grow - but since there are tools (plug-ins in the case of Ao3) to block out tags, ships and genres people don't want to see, I demand to not find actual death threats in the places I frequent, directed at my person over fictional characters and themes. 

 

I am not obligating anyone to read my work, nor are other authors on Ao3 doing it. Ao3 is an opt- in kind of archive, meaning that you have to tangibly click on a fic to access it. Don't like the tags? Scroll past. 

 

Long story short, I understood over the course of the past year that it's impossible for me to please everyone, and that those who seek to silence authors through threats and verbal abuse while using anonymity as a shield are not worth mine or anyone's time. 

 

People need to understand that writing about a certain topic does not equate condoning it, and that is a labour that resides solely on the reader's shoulders. For my part, I will continue to tag as responsibly as I can, and add tags when requested by readers because someone may spot things that escaped me, but I am back to this fic. 

 

So stay tuned for actual updates, and sorry for the long winded note.

 

\- Dren

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally alone with Anya, Raven shares a terrible secret. Will she be able to get Lexa's General to help them as they conspire to take power away from Abby? 
> 
> Meanwhile, Clarke's deceit continues, and an unexpected visitor calls to her from the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, this took a while. 
> 
> \- Dren
> 
> PS: previous chapters have been further edited.

The burn left on her cheek by the hot brand throbbed with each beat of her heart, but Anya forced her back to remain straight, until it looked like she was knelt on the cold ground by choice, rather than having forced on it. Around her wrists and neck, the chains may as well have been jewels from the way she wore them, and she didn’t bother to hide her contempt. 

She was not afraid of punishment - these people had already taken all she cared about from her, and she didn’t dread her own death. Anya was too old to fear something she’d brushed against so many times it had become an old friend who - eventually - would come to her to stay. 

She had done more than brush against it during the battle - bumping head first into it would be a more adequate term - the pain flaring up along her ribs every time she breathed, a testament to the fact. 

Her side was definitely bruised, perhaps a bone or two were even broken, but Anya doubted it’d make much of a difference to their captors. She suspected that the whole ritual had been a farce, albeit one that only Queen Nia was privy to. The Azplana was using the prisoners as bargaining chips to cement her alliance with the Skai People, the weapons they possessed crucial to support her claim as ruler of the Coalition, but Anya didn’t doubt that in the long run, Nia didn’t care whether they lived or died.  

She knew the Ice Queen well enough to guess she would prefer the latter outcome. 

_ The Skayons’ weapons… _

Neither her wounds nor the rain drenching her clothes had managed to make her shiver, but the memory of the destruction her enemies had wrought, seemingly with magic, was enough to make Anya want to retch. 

They had been advancing in an orderly line, ready for their shield wall to connect with the Azgeda one, when the ground had erupted at their feet, all along the Coalition’s line. Men had been thrown aside like ragdolls, some dying on the spot as they fell badly and snapped their necks, the Azgeda warriors charging into the gaps left by the fallen. 

What they had planned as a tactically sound battle, quickly turned into a slaughter.

The war had been going well up to that point, Heda’s forces winning whenever they had come in contact with the enemy. The majority of Lexa’s Generals had been convinced that one last pitched battle would throw the Azplana back over the border, where her own Jarls would dethrone her and place someone else on her throne. Someone that would beg Heda to be allowed to bend the knee and rejoin the other clans. 

Spirits knew they’d never been so wrong.

The hiss of the hot iron brought her back to the present, and she watched through narrowed eyes as Lexa received a mark. The placement of it left her puzzled and, judging from the angry mutters coming from the assembled warriors, it was something nobody had expected. 

If witnessing her pupil being stripped of her title hurt, it was nothing when compared to the affront she felt as the blonde Alpha hoisted Lexa over one shoulder, carrying her off like she was a sack of rocks. 

Anya would have surged to her feet and ripped the woman’s throat out with her teeth if it would have made a lick of difference, but the truth was she would not have gotten within ten feet of her before being struck down.

She’d serve Heda best by staying alive and biding her time, letting these  _ weaklings  _ think they had broken her before she hit them where it counted. 

The brunette who had branded her touched her shoulder, gesturing for her to stand and follow. Her face was inscrutable, but the fury lighting up her dark eyes was hot enough to rival with the rage Anya felt. 

She forced herself to shuffle after the girl, feigning meekness the hardest thing she’d ever done.

***********************************

“There is something I need you to know. It won’t help me sleep at night, but it’s only fair that I tell you.” 

They were in the girl’s tent, the small space almost completely taken up by a work table so littered with bits of wood and metal, Anya fancied she could hear it groan under the weight. Some of the things she spotted among the rubble looked like the ancient mechanisms her people sometimes scavenged from the underground bunkers to sell on market day, but as to what they were supposed to do, she had no idea.

“Are you even listening to me?” 

The girl was pacing back and forth in front of her, clearly nervous, and Anya’s hands itched with the urge to grab her and hold her still for just a minute, her body language setting her teeth on edge. 

“Why should I bother to?” Her lips curled back, exposing her teeth, and she sneered, satisfied that it made the girl falter. 

“Because it’s  _ important _ . And Clarke thinks we shouldn’t tell you, not yet, but I just can’t agree with her on this. Not when so much is at stake. Not when we need you to-” She cut short, and her jaws snapped shut around the rest of whatever she had been going to say.

_ A secret? Clarke? Need us for what? _

The girl was speaking way too fast for Anya to make sense of her words. She wasn’t sure she wanted to anyway - certainly not about to trust any of her captors, even if they said the sky was blue.

The brunette rolled her eyes, and limped over to the table, rummaging through heaps of objects without care, but evidently looking for something. 

When she faced Anya again, she was holding a bar of metal bent and hammered flat at one end to function as a crowbar. 

“Pull the chain as taut as you can.” The girl ordered, gesturing for her to spread her hands. “They didn’t give me a key to your shackles.” 

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll kill you as soon as I am out of these?” Anya waved her hands, and the iron links connecting her wrists punctuated her words with a soft jingle. 

“Wow. And here I thought you’d be able to do that in your sleep.” The girl quipped in response, mischief bolting through her eyes. It was a matter of moments and her expression returned somber. 

“Honestly I wouldn’t blame you if you did. And I will not stop you, should you try.” 

Her words gave Anya pause, and she allowed her to force the end of the crowbar in between the iron links of the chain. It didn’t take much pressure for the links to shatter, but the collar that the Azgeda warriors had secured around her neck proved harder to remove. The crowbar slipped several times during the process, scratching her skin and, whenever it happened the brunette would shoot her an apologetic look. 

It was a harsh, almost unbearable contrast to how she pictured anyone who chose to ally with Nia. 

“There.” The collar clicked open, and Anya tossed it as far from herself as she could, her hand going to her throat to feel at the chafed skin there. 

The brunette stepped back, dark eyes never leaving Anya’s as she set the crowbar back on the table. 

Anya noted how, now that she wasn’t holding anything, she kept her hands open at her sides, as if she was attempting to convey that she meant her no harm.

_ No more than what she’s already done anyway. _

The burn on her face was driving her mad, and she was coming to the end of the very little patience she had left.

“The battle.” The girl swallowed, wetting her lips before continuing. “The earth rending like it did… it was my fault.  _ I  _ built the landmines.” 

“Landmines?” The girl’s voice came to her from a great distance, muffled, like the sounds one would hear when underwater. 

Anya was aware of stepping closer, her hands balled into fists at her sides. She didn’t care that what she had so readily called magic, actually wasn’t - all she could see were Triss’ staring, empty eyes, the expression on her face one of uttermost surprise.

Only when she heard her whimper softly, she realized she had borne the girl to the ground, hands closing around her throat. The sound somehow pierced the red veil that had descended over her, and her hold slackened. Anya bent down until she and the brunette were nose to nose.

“Now, girl, give me a good reason to not snap your neck like you deserve.”

The worst winter imaginable had nothing on the chill that her words carried.

“There isn’t a good reason.” The girl husked, simply staring up at her. Where her fingers had squeezed, Anya could see bruises already forming, but her captor did not even raise her hand to check for damage. Her eyes held sadness, self-loathing maybe, but she did not beg to be spared. 

“There isn’t an excuse. They ordered me to do it because they knew I could, and I did, too afraid of what they threatened to refuse.” 

“If what you say is true, and you fabricated these...landmines…” Anya stumbled over the unfamiliar word. “Then your death would have prevented countless others.” 

“You really think our elders gave me the means or the chance to take my own life?” 

The girl sat up, anger heating her cheeks. She grabbed Anya by the shoulders and pushed her back until she was sitting on her haunches. The Beta could have easily resisted - she had the strength and hand-to-hand combat experience to subdue far more dangerous opponents - but the fervent look on the brunette’s face made her hesitate.

She could always hear what her enemy had to say and snap her neck after. Even the tiniest sliver of information could help her plan an escape and, in her desire to be heard, the girl may very well slip up to reveal more than she intended. 

“It was either giving them what they wanted or being forcibly mated to an Alpha of their choosing.” The brunette had lowered her voice to a whisper, and a haunted look crossed her face. She stared into space, shoulders slumped and hands wrapped around her upper arms, but Anya was sure that it was not the night’s damp chill that made her shiver.

_ Alpha? Then this girl…  _  Anya didn’t know if her wounds had dulled her senses, or if it was the pain the brunette was obviously always in which had muted her scent but, as she connected all the dots, her mind reeled. The girl was an Omega and - just like that - she found herself faced with a new conundrum. In the Trikru sect she had been born in, Omegas were sacred, and harming one led to a fate worse than death. 

But the girl didn’t need to know that, and Anya hardened her heart against all she had been taught.

“That’s what Nia’s people have done to us.” Anya pointed out levelly. 

“Yes. And I can spend the rest of my life saying that I am sorry,” the brunette looked at Anya’s hands, which were now folded on her lap, and laughed bitterly, “and you may decide to make it a very short life. So instead, I’m going to trust you with our plan, even if Clarke thinks we ought to get  _ you  _ to trust us  _ first _ ” She shook her head, reliving an argument she’d clearly had numerous times. 

“Say I agree to listen to this plan of yours,” Anya interjected. “What stops me from selling you to the first Azgeda guard I come across?” Whatever this girl and her friend were scheming, it was obvious they intended to go against their leaders. Anya couldn’t tell what their motivation was yet, but she and the captive Coalition warriors could benefit from the chaos, and perhaps even cause enough to slip away. 

Besides, whatever chinks could be widened among the Queen’s allies, would aid the clans choosing to resist her when she went south. Civil unrest would make Nia look weak, and even clans which had always followed Lexa unwillingly would hesitate in joining the Azplana, if she did not turn out to be an uncontested winner. Spirits knew that the desert folk were craven when it came to a direct fight.

“Nothing.” The girl reached a hand to the small of her back, pulling a knife out and tossing it between the two of them. It was indicative of Anya’s mental state that she hadn’t thought of frisking her after throwing her to the ground. The girl could have made her pay with her mistake quite dearly but, for some reason, she had elected not to.

“I forfeit my life to you, Anya kom Trikru. Whether you decide to take it now, or after we’ve freed you all, is up to you.”

Anya hated that the girl knew her name already, and felt at a disadvantage for it. She loathed even more how pleasing it sounded when pronounced in the brunette’s weird accent. That was another thing that had made an impression on her - she’d expected these newcomers to speak the same harsh dialect common to the Azgeda clan (she still wasn’t  completely sure she believed the rumors that they had come from the stars, no matter what the scouts reported) - but they did not. Nor did they use battle cant, simply speaking the Old Language as if they didn’t care that they enemies could understand. 

Perhaps they were right to, considering the terrible weapons she had just discovered they had at their disposal. 

Slowly, aware that the girl was following her every move, Anya picked up the knife, finding reassurance in its balanced weight. Being armed, albeit poorly, made her feel close to her old self, real, and again in charge of her own destiny.

“Tell me everything,” Anya ordered her, the same way she’d command one of her seconds. “Starting with your name.” 

***********************************

Outside Clarke’s tent, it looked like the world was hell-bent on ending. 

Rain had resumed, and it fell so hard that it created an almost physical wall for Clarke to struggle through, shards of ice liberally strewn among the water.

Within three steps the Alpha was soaked to the bone despite the clothes she still wore, and she found herself wishing that fetching water could wait until morning. But Lexa needed to know that Clarke could be her ally if she let her, despite how unlikely an agreement between the two of them seemed. 

The guards - whom she knew were tasked to spy on her as well as protect her - huddled sodden and miserable around a glowing brazier, tossing fistifuls of damp wood onto the coals, but the flames died down to half-hearted efforts almost immediately under the downpour. 

“Already done?” The one who had walked in on their scuffle asked as he spotted her. Rather, he had to shout the question to be heard over the growing roar of the storm, and the words were almost snatched away by a gust of frosty wind before she had a chance to hear them. 

“She’s filthy!” Clarke yelled back, hating the mask she had to wear for their benefit, “and I like my whores clean!”

“Well, there sure is enough water going around tonight to do the job right, eh boys?” The man sniggered, but his friends merely shrugged, too engrossed in their discomfort to find his quips funny. They probably wished their shift was already over so that they could get back under a tent and into dry clothes, put something hot in their stomach then hit their pallets for the remainder of the night.

As much as Clarke loathed them, she shared the sentiment. Her side throbbed with every step, her clothes so drenched by water that she couldn’t tell how much she was bleeding. Even spilled blood turned cold under rain that was pelting her back as hard as hail, the amount of ice increasing with each new blast of wind. Beyond that, Clarke ached from the battle and her limbs were heavy with fatigue. She took another step, faltering when a particularly strong gust of wind threatened to knock her onto her ass. She shivered.

“There’s clean buckets at the horselines.” One of the  other guards supplied, taking pity, “you ain’t making it to the stream in this weather, Rainwater is better than nothing.”

She nodded her head in gratitude, making her way towards the nearest picket line. The muddy ground made her going slow, muck sucking her boots at every step. The camp around her was quiet, and the few people that trod outside looked more like they belonged to a legion of the dead than a victorious army. 

They were dim, almost indistinguishable figures, the cloaks they had wrapped around themselves to fend off the rain plastered to their frames like funeral shrouds, and the faces poking out from raised hoods recalled the sepulchral white of freshly sealed mausoleums. 

Clarke was grateful that the one or two that noticed her were too harried to approach, but she quickened her step regardless, and soon enough she was surrounded by the quiet whickers and warm bodies of the horses. 

She grabbed two buckets - already full to the brim with rain - and lifted them with a grunt, slowly turning back the way she’d come and hoping she’d make it to the tent without falling despite the added weight.

She could taste electricity on her tongue every time lightning flashed across the night- a metallic aftertaste as if someone had stuck a piece of iron in her mouth. 

This storm and the ones that had hounded them since before the battle were something primal, vicious. Clarke knew what it meant because she’d seen it the previous season. She remembered the howling winds and driving rain, which further north often turned to fully fledged ice storms, and how it had caught them completely off guard. And sometimes, in the middle of the night, she still woke up in a cold sweat, remembering the man that had been fried right on Arkadia’s metal fence as he was repairing a section of razor wire the wind had ripped off its pylon. 

It had been right after a storm similar to that currently raging overhead, as everyone ventured back outside to complete the day’s work. They had all thought the worst was over.

Instead, it had been a deceitful lull, and days later the first snows had come. And with the snow - Azgeda. 

She was halfway back, body bent against the howling wind when she thought she heard her name being whispered from somewhere among a row of tents on her right. 

Clarke paused and squinted, but between the rain and the lack of light, she could see nothing beyond a few confused outlines darker than the rest. 

“Clarke! Over here!” 

The voice - a man’s - was pitched low enough to go unnoticed by the people sleeping in the tents, but there was no mistaking that someone was truly trying to get her attention. 

When she didn’t move, a hooded figure stepped forward, lifting a hand to touch her arm before she transfixed him with a hard stare. 

“It’s Jackson.” 

Clarke waited, and the man’s pallid hands reached out from underneath his cloak to push the hood back slightly, offering proof. 

Clarke grunted, baring her teeth so viciously that he took a step back. 

“What do you want?” Jackson was her mother’s lackey, and she trusted him as far as she could throw him. It wouldn’t be very far, but it’d please her to try.

“We need to talk.” Seeing her shake her head, he raised his hands, clasping them in begging. “Please, Clarke.” 

“Fine.” He seemed determined, and she didn’t want to waste the whole night. “Say whatever you need to say and go.” 

“Not here. Follow.”

Before she could refuse, he had melted back into the shadows.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts?


End file.
